


Three Strikes and You're (Hopefully Not) Out

by AlmostUnderground (orphan_account)



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Bed-Wetting, Bedwetting, M/M, Post-Season/Series 01, Schitt's Creek - Freeform, Season/Series 06, Wetting, im so so sorry, no one asked for this at all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:02:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23475892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/AlmostUnderground
Summary: "The second time it happened, Patrick was the first to wake up. The sun was just starting to illuminate the tiny apartment with a warm golden sheen, the two of them tucked safely under the covers. Patrick didn’t really remember what he was dreaming about when he woke up, his head still a little heavy from the wine they'd had the night before. It was early, though, which he recognized almost immediately.His head was still groggy with sleep as he shifted his body towards David, watching under the soft lighting as his almost-husband's chest rose evenly in his deep sleep. Below the comfort of the warm blankets, Patrick could’ve fall directly back to sleep. That was if he hadn’t noticed, as he shifted towards his fiancé, that the sheets below them were cold and damp.*Much to David's horror, the "incident" wasn't just a one-time thing.*This might turn into a multi-chaptered fic... that no one asked for.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	Three Strikes and You're (Hopefully Not) Out

**Author's Note:**

> I'm... so sorry.

The second time it happened, Patrick was the first to wake up. The sun was just starting to illuminate the tiny apartment with a warm golden sheen, the two of them tucked safely under the covers. Patrick didn’t really remember what he was dreaming about when he woke up, his head still a little heavy from the wine they'd had the night before. It was early, though, which he recognized almost immediately.

His head was still groggy with sleep as he shifted his body towards David, watching under the soft lighting as his almost-husband's chest rose evenly in his deep sleep. Below the comfort of the warm blankets, Patrick could’ve fall directly back to sleep. That was if he hadn’t noticed, as he shifted towards his fiancé, that the sheets below them were cold and damp. Patrick’s heart sunk. He felt a blush creeping up his neck as he let a hand slip below the blankets, making sure that is wasn’t _blood_ or a _spill_. He was almost certain it was, yet again, neither of those things. He was still basically asleep as he gently rolled back over to his side, grabbing his phone to check the time. _6:45 am._ It was a Sunday, and they still had several more hours of sleep before opening the store. Patrick held in a sigh, knowing that this wasn’t what David wanted to be woken up to. He wanted coffee and pastries. He didn’t want this.

“David, baby, wake up,” Patrick whispered, sitting up ever so slightly and caressing a hand across the shoulder that was closest to him. David only stirred slightly, his eyes staying closed.

“Okay. One minute,” he replied, his voice thick with sleep. Patrick wouldn’t be surprised if David was also feeling the effects of a little too much wine from the night before. Well, obviously he was feeling _one_ unfortunate effect. Patrick tried waking him again, this time a little louder. When David’s eyes finally opened and recognized Patrick’s face, he smiled, before he almost immediately stiffened.

“Oh my God,” he whispered, looking everywhere but Patrick’s face. Patrick did his best to interrupt before David went on another self-degrading tangent.

“It’s okay, hey, look at me. You’re fine. We had a lot to drink last night,” Patrick tried to assure him. David was fully awake now, sitting up, frantically trying to run away. Patrick didn’t stop him when he stood, pulling the comforter around his waist again and shuffling backwards. This time there was no underlying humor to any of this, however. This time David’s eyes were glossy, and he was basically vomiting apologies.

“I’m so sorry, oh my God. What is _wrong_ with me,” he nearly yelled, still backing away from Patrick. Patrick was standing too at this point, ignoring how the right side of his own pajama bottoms were damp and gently tried to usher his frantic fiancé into the tiny bathroom.

“Nothing is wrong with you, David. It was an accident.” Patrick said, putting his hands on David’s shoulders, attempting to gain his gaze again. Patrick had to shallow the lump in his own throat as he watched David’s eyes finally spill over.

“Oh my God, please don’t say that word,” David said.

“Go take a shower. I’ll do the sheets. It’s okay, really,” Patrick said, ignoring what David had just said. After a sad moment, David nodded, handing over the comforter that he had been clinging onto for dear life and closing the bathroom door as quickly as humanly possible.

Finally, Patrick let out a very long, very deep sigh. Patrick set a pair of David’s pajamas on the bathroom counter as soon as he heard the water start to run and went to go work on the bed.

When David emerged almost an hour later, Patrick had put new sheets on the bed and started the coffee. He was dressed in a new pair of pajamas’, hoping that David would want to sleep for a few more hours still.

“Hey,” Patrick said as soon as David made eye contact with him. He had another towel wrapped around his head and was wearing the clothes that Patrick had laid out for him. Patrick had never seen David look so _defeated_ before.

“So, I guess this is something you’re going to make me talk about,” David said, trying very hard to keep his voice under control. His eyes were obviously red.

“I think we should, yes. But I also think it’s barely eight in the morning, and I’d like to get a few more hours of sleep,” Patrick said, keeping his face friendly. He was smiling enough for both of them.

“You can sleep. Of course. I don’t think I’ll be able to, though. Sorry,” David responded, sitting at the end of the couch. There was an odd sort of tension between them that Patrick _hated_. He wanted nothing more than to run over to him and wrap him in a big hug, tell him that he didn’t care. That he’d never care. That he’d always love him, no matter what. But he also knew David. And he knew that’s exactly what David didn’t want.

“Don’t apologize. It’s okay. I’ll stay up, if that’s what you want,” Patrick responded. He just wanted to see David smile again. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen him so upset. Over _anything_. Not even the first time this had happened.

“No. Go back to sleep, please. I think I’m going to go for a run, actually,” David responded quickly, standing to go towards their dresser, pulling out some more appropriate attire.

“You don’t run,” Patrick said without any hesitation.

“Today, I do. I’ll be back in an hour or so,” he replied, pulling on a black sweater and feigning his best smile. He wasn’t fooling Patrick in the slightest. Patrick nodded anyways, starting to get back under the sheets. The new, clean sheets.

“Take as much time as you need. I’ll be here,” Patrick said, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” David responded through a thin, fake smile, before shutting off the lights and leaving his fiancé alone in the semi-darkness. Patrick, still feeling the effects of a wine induced hangover, fell asleep within minutes. David, on the other hand, spent twenty minutes in the café’s bathroom trying to wipe the embarrassed tears from his cheeks that wouldn’t fucking stop falling.

*

Patrick was awake when David got back, exactly one hour after leaving. Patrick didn’t expect him to be punctual _now_ of all times. David’s cheeks were flushed and for a second Patrick almost believed that he went for a run, but it was a warm morning and there was not a drop of sweat on David’s complexation. Patrick was already dressed, sitting at the edge of his bed and putting on his shoes, planning to go out and get them some breakfast. He smiled when he saw that David, holding a brown carry-out bag, had beaten him to the punch.

“Muffins. And fruit. Figured you might be hungry,” David said, gesturing to the bag and setting his sunglasses and the food onto the dining table. He didn’t sit down like Patrick expected, and instead sort of just hovered around the bed, not really knowing what to do with his hands. His eyes weren’t red now, and he at least looked like himself.

“Thank you, David. You didn’t have to do that,” Patrick responded, standing as soon as he finished lacing up the final shoe. He brushed a hand across David’s back as he passed, kissing his cheek lightly. Patrick’s heart absolutely sank when he felt David flinch ever-so-slightly.

“You’re welcome. I owe you,” David responded with a forced smile, still standing. Patrick bit into a muffin with gratitude, sitting in one of the chairs and tucking a napkin onto his lap.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said casually in-between bites. David did that thing Patrick secretly found absolutely adorable where he looked like his eyes were about to roll back into his brain. David was still so flustered. Normally, Patrick loved when he was flustered. He loved to press kisses to his blushed cheeks. He loved to suck onto his warm neck and leave him marked up and all his. But right now, David wasn’t flushed like he was normally was. He was flushed like an atom bomb, just waiting to be diffused.

“See, the thing is, I kind of feel like I do. Because I thought that last week was a one-time thing. Like a completely out of the blue, never going to happen ever again kind of moment. And now I’m feeling like I need to be medically diagnosed,” David said, rushed and like he’d planned out exactly what to say. Patrick hadn’t been counting, but the _incident_ had been almost exactly a week ago. It had been almost a week since his fiancé seriously brought up _divorce_ because of a wet bed.

“We had a lot to drink last night, David,” Patrick tried to defend, muffin crumbs all over his fingers. The fact that David wasn’t eating was a little bit worrisome. Patrick almost never ate without David eating with him. It felt wrong. He set down the blueberry muffin onto the napkin, deciding to wait for him.

“Okay. But I didn’t the first time. And if we’re going by that logic, you should’ve pissed yourself too,” David deflected. He was getting restless and was clearly on edge, his hands resting on the sides of his face anxiously. Patrick stood up and crossed to him quickly, taking both his hands in his and pulling them down. He didn’t start speaking until David was staring back at him.

“We don’t need to talk about it, okay? It was just a bad night. We can just pretend it never happened,” he said with so much honesty in his voice that David melted. Patrick’s thumb stroked the rings on David’s left hand and David felt that familiar knot in his throat from that morning creeping its way back up. Patrick could always calm him down. He could always fix what was wrong. David wanted to cry all over again just because of the way Patrick was looking at him; like nothing in the world mattered. Nothing at all.

“Can you please just promise that my mom will never hear about this,” David finally said after a moment of just touching hands. Patrick let out a tight laugh, bringing David’s hands to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss against his knuckles, teeth showing.

“I would never say a word to your mother, I promise.”

*

That night as they got into bed, Patrick wrapped his arms around David, his head resting in the crook of his neck, breathing in the soft cotton smell of his t-shirt. He stayed awake for a long time, just listening, and waiting for David to fall asleep. But even after an hour, David’s body was stiff, and his breathing was too shallow for him to be asleep.

“Baby, go to bed,” Patrick finally whispered into his neck after a few more minutes of both of them pretending to be asleep. David’s breath hitched, and for a terrifying moment, Patrick thought that he might be crying. But instead, David turned towards him, wrapping his own arms around Patrick and pulling him in closer. They were face to face, but it was too dark to see either of them clearly. David leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Patrick’s nose. It was so light it was like being kissed by a ghost, but Patrick’s heart still raced.

“Okay,” David replied after a long time.

They were both dead asleep in minutes.

*

The third time it happened, only two days later, David woke Patrick up with a start as he rushed off into the bathroom before Patrick’s eyes were even fully opened. Patrick didn’t really know what to do, sitting in a wet bed as the shower started to run. At least this time it was a reasonable hour, and Patrick stripped the bed quickly, falling into a routine he never thought he’d need. Looking miserably towards the now bleached mattress, he realized that he was out of clean sheets. He decided to just throw a picnic blanket over the mattress and hope David wouldn’t notice.

David took a quick shower this time, anxious to be clean, but also anxious about having to face the fiancé he just abandoned in a pee-stained bed. He scrubbed his skin raw and threw on a few sprays of his after shave before leaving the bathroom in a robe. He wasn’t crying this time. He couldn’t. He felt like a broken toy as he left the bathroom and was about to ask Patrick if divorce was _back_ on the table when Patrick spoke first.

“You don’t need to say anything,” he rushed out. David eyed the bed. “The sheets are still in the wash,” Patrick said, catching David’s gaze and standing.

“Oh my God. I’ve ruined all of your sheets. Wonderful. Just, wow. That’s great,” David said in disbelief and what Patrick could only pin as disgust. David didn’t move from where he stood. He just really, really couldn’t.

“They’re not ruined. They can be washed,” Patrick argued. David only huffed in response and looked around the room, trying to find his words.

“I’m sorry that I ran away. I just… I had to shower. I’m sorry,” David apologized, feeling very exposed in just his robe. His legs burned from how hard he had been scrubbing them.

“I get it. It’s fine,” Patrick said, just as calm and collected as always. “Do you want to talk?” Patrick offered, taking a step towards David. That’s when David finally lost it. Tears welled quickly in his eyes and he pressed his lips together, shaking his head until eventually it turned into a nod. He felt sick. Absolutely sick to his stomach.

“Okay. Why don’t I make us some breakfast and you get dressed? Then we’ll talk.”

And they did just that, Patrick whipping up some eggs and toast as David finished his morning routine and dressed in his outfit for the day. They ate without speaking, listening to a playlist Stevie had made David for his birthday. There was a pit the size of a grapefruit in David’s stomach the entire time they ate, and he finished as quickly as he could. There was a brief moment where he thought he might actually be sick as Patrick cleared their plates. Once they were cleaned, David sat on the couch, waiting for Patrick to join him. He thought, briefly, about just getting up and making a break for it. Never looking back. Selling the engagement rings at a pawn shop and moving to New York. Starting over without Patrick. But then he saw the way Patrick was looking at him; the same as he always did. Like nothing had changed.

“Okay. Talk. What’s going on,” Patrick said, sitting down and pausing the music from his phone. With nothing else to listen to but his own thoughts, David just wanted to scream. Or cry. Or run. Yeah, he really just wanted to run. But Patrick was patient and waited for David’s slow reply. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer this time, so David talked.

“I guess I… I used to have a problem. With it. I don’t think it fully stopped until I was like… sixteen. Which is really embarrassing, obviously. Oh my God, I can’t believe I just admitted that. But now it just happens sometimes. Literally only ever once in a blue moon. It doesn’t normally happen like this. I swear,” David said, his voice was so soft and pleading that Patrick felt as though he’d just been stepped on.

“Okay. Okay. So, what do you want to do?” Patrick asked, seemingly unfazed by all of this information. David looked very still.

“I don’t know,” he responded after a moment of consideration.

“Okay. Then… lets wait, alright? See what happens? This is probably just a weird fluke,” Patrick assured, smiling with his mouth closed. David didn’t like the implications of _see what happens,_ but he’d never in his life felt so comfortable talking about something so ridiculous and embarrassing that he didn’t want to push his luck. So, he just nodded. He nodded until his throat closed up again and he felt himself want to cry.

“Come here,” Patrick ordered as soon as David’s face began to twist, and his eyes became glossy. David leaned into this touch desperately, soaking in his sent and the fabric softener he used on his blue button down like it was his oxygen. He let Patrick engulf him.

“This is not a big deal to me. Not now, not ever. I love you, David.”

David only cried harder. He didn’t feel like he deserved any part of this love story he’d become wrapped up in.

*

David wasn’t surprised at all when he heard the crinkle of that fucking mattress pad beneath him when he crawled into Patrick’s bed the next night. He didn’t say anything. He just curled into himself and let Patrick spoon him. He had seen enough baseball games with Patrick at this point to know that _3 strikes mean you’re out_. He prayed to whatever God there was out there that Patrick would let that rule slide.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone reads this and wants more, your wish might just come true.


End file.
